


every step of the way

by lily_winterwood



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Worship, Foot Fetish, Foot Jobs, High Heels, Louboutins, M/M, Rimming, foot kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 20:44:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11517123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lily_winterwood/pseuds/lily_winterwood
Summary: And at that moment, Viktor knows he’s got it bad, because just the sound of Yuuri’s voice makes the weariness seep away from his bones. “Yuuri!” he calls, his voice brighter than it’s been since Yuuri left the rink earlier in the evening. “I thought you’d gone to bed?”“No, I — ” and then there’s a hitch in Yuuri’s voice, which makes Viktor’s body tense a little, unsure. Something is a little different, and he can’t quite pinpoint it as good or bad. “Come in here, Viktor. I’ve got something to show you.”Foot fetish smut done as part of a trade with LovelyTitania!





	every step of the way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cainhurst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cainhurst/gifts).



> Wow. So. This took way too long. It was written in the strangest places (Everest base camp, Taiwanese family values camp), too. But I hope you all enjoy it anyway!
> 
> Also, pardon the weird tagging; I can't seem to access drop down menus for tags. I'll fix it when I get out of the Great Firewall, lol

It had been a long day at practice. Yakov had scheduled Viktor in for longer sessions than everyone else, saying that if he wanted to “get back into winning after taking most of the season off”, he “had better work [him]self to the bone to make his comeback worth anyone else’s time”. And so, Viktor’s brain is one thought short of fried by the time he’s trudging down the hall of his building towards his apartment. Yuuri had left the rink before him, promising to walk and feed Makkachin, and Viktor is looking forward to seeing his fiancé again.

Slowly, he unlocks his apartment door, sighing as he steps into a dimly-lit living room. It’s late, after all; Yuuri probably has gone to bed already. There’s a bowl of stir-fry on the kitchen island, carefully cooked to their nutritionist’s guidelines, and Viktor scarfs it down without a second thought alongside the small bowl of rice sitting by the cooker.

There’s the sound of scampering feet, and moments later Makkachin enters the kitchen area with his wagging tail and his pet-me eyes. Viktor capitulates immediately, scratching the old poodle behind the ears with a soft sigh.

“Where’s Yuuri, Makka?” he wonders. “Is he asleep?”

His poodle boofs in reply. Viktor laughs, crossing the kitchen area to wash out the food bowls. Makkachin follows him, still wagging his tail and panting slightly.

“Did you want something to eat?” Viktor asks. “Yuuri did feed you, right?”

Makkachin says nothing, only looks up at him with wide, innocent eyes. Viktor casts a glance towards the food and water bowls, noticing that the food one is still half-full.

“Silly boy, you still haven’t finished your own dinner,” he chides. “You should — ”

A new voice chimes in at that moment. “Viktor?” Yuuri asks, from the direction of the bedroom. “Are you back?”

And at that moment, Viktor knows he’s got it bad, because just the sound of Yuuri’s voice makes the weariness seep away from his bones. “Yuuri!” he calls, his voice brighter than it’s been since Yuuri left the rink earlier in the evening. “I thought you’d gone to bed?”

“No, I — ” and then there’s a hitch in Yuuri’s voice, which makes Viktor’s body tense a little, unsure. Something is a little different, and he can’t quite pinpoint it as good or bad. “Come in here, Viktor. I’ve got something to show you.”

Viktor is at the bedroom door in an instant. It’s ajar, golden light from the bedroom within spilling out into the hallway. But Viktor pauses with his hand halfway to the handle, shooing Makkachin back into the living room before turning to the golden light again with his heart in his throat.

What could Yuuri possibly want to show him? Slowly, Viktor pushes the door open and steps in, his breath fleeing him the instant he sees his fiancé on the bed waiting for him.

Yuuri’s legs are crossed, his head tilted slightly. His cheeks are flushed, dark eyes staring intently at Viktor from under his lashes. His hair is slicked back like it usually is on the ice, and oh, Viktor wants to mess it up, tangle his fingers in those black locks and take him apart piece by painstaking piece, rendering him breathlessly incoherent of all words other than Viktor’s name.  

But his gaze slips lower, to the pair of black-and-gold Louboutins on Yuuri’s feet, and his own breath hitches in his chest.

“Surprise?” Yuuri offers, and Viktor’s fingers flex almost in response. He takes a step forward, closing the door behind him.

“Where did you — ” he begins, and Yuuri’s flush darkens at that. It’s a good look on him.

“Phichit and I went shopping a couple weeks back. Do you like them?” Yuuri uncrosses and recrosses his legs, and Viktor realises with a jolt that the heels are the only thing he’s wearing. Coming to kneel at Yuuri’s feet, Viktor reaches out with a questioning stare and cups the bottom of Yuuri’s right shoe.

Yuuri smiles encouragingly at him, so Viktor skims one of his hands along Yuuri’s right calf, pressing a kiss to the bridge of Yuuri’s foot. Yuuri sighs and relaxes into Viktor’s hold at that, the sound only making Viktor’s heart quicken in result.

“I _love_ them,” he murmurs, his voice a little hoarse as he does so. “But then, there’s not a single part of you I don’t love.”

Yuuri hums a little, before tipping Viktor’s chin back with his right toe. His eyes glow like embers, almost unfathomable; Viktor finds himself swallowing at the sight, and again when Yuuri’s eyes flicker to his throat.  

“Then prove it,” Yuuri breathes, and Viktor grins a little as he presses a kiss to the toe of Yuuri’s shoe.

“With pleasure,” he purrs as he pulls back, gripping at the heel and gently sliding the shoe down, following it with kisses until he reaches Yuuri’s toes. He takes one into his mouth and gently sucks it, tongue circling the pad briefly before he pulls away. Yuuri bites his lip at that, his fingers digging into the bed as he watches with darkened eyes.

Slowly, Viktor moves his mouth back up again, along Yuuri’s bridge to his shins, tasting soap and the faint hint of salt left on his skin from training. “I took a shower,” Yuuri breathes, punctuated with a gasp when Viktor finds the sensitive spot just below the inside of his right knee, “and I, uh, prepared myself — you know, in case you wanted to…” his cheeks are scarlet now, but his eyes seem to smoulder with a promise that leaves Viktor yearning for more.

“I could never say no to you,” Viktor replies, pressing a kiss to Yuuri’s knee.

“Surely you must be tired from practice today,” Yuuri murmurs, lightly stroking at the silver fringe covering Viktor’s eyes. “We don’t have to do anything — ”

“We’ve got no practice tomorrow. We’ll have time to recover.” He sounds a lot more convinced of this than he feels, because there’s no doubt that Yuuri will unravel him, ruin him in ways that he’d only ever _dreamed_ of before, and there’s probably no way to recover from that.

Yuuri makes a pleased hum at that, before his hands push gently at Viktor’s shoulders, nudging him back onto his knees with his thighs spread. Even though Viktor’s the only one of the two of them still dressed, he feels terribly naked under his fiancé’s piercing gaze.

When Yuuri uncrosses his legs and stands, Viktor drinks in the sight of him, of his cock, thick and flushed and hard against his hip. Viktor wants to touch it, wants to feel it in his mouth; his own cock twitches a little as he watches Yuuri’s hand skim across the tip, rolling precome onto one fingertip and presenting it to Viktor.

It is a familiar salty-bitter tang across his tongue, but Viktor can never get enough of it. He sucks the digit slowly, his eyes never leaving Yuuri’s as he savours the hitch in the man’s breath and the slowly creeping flush across his cheeks.

He releases Yuuri’s finger, a small trail of saliva extending between it and his tongue. Yuuri steps forward, pressing the foot still wearing a slinky black heel against the burgeoning tightness in Viktor’s sweats. Viktor moans a little at the pressure, looking up through his lashes at Yuuri, whose remaining hesitance seems to melt off his shoulders at the reaction.

“Is this okay?” Yuuri asks, and Viktor responds with fervent nodding. Yuuri exhales, then, and the platform of the heel presses a little harder against Viktor’s cock. Viktor gasps; the rub between his cock and his clothes is just a little _too_ exquisite to bear.

Yuuri’s foot lightens. “Is that too much?” Yuuri asks.

Viktor shakes his head vehemently. “Do it again, and harder,” he begs. Yuuri’s eyes widen a little, but he nods and steps forward again, tracing the toe against the shape of Viktor’s cock. Viktor closes his eyes, a moan slipping out of him as Yuuri’s foot grinds a little harder against him.

He raises his hips to meet Yuuri’s foot, needing a little more of that lovely friction, his eyes trained on the flutter of Yuuri’s lashes and the heave of his breath. Reaching out, he grabs Yuuri’s leg to hold it in place, kissing gently from his knees down to his shin as his fingers cup Yuuri’s calves.

Slowly, Yuuri begins to move his leg upwards, offering more skin to worship. Viktor eagerly assents, trailing kisses down until he reaches Yuuri’s ankle. Gently, reverently, he takes the other heel and slides it off Yuuri’s foot, his fingers lingering against Yuuri’s arch even long after he sets the shoe aside.

Yuuri then moves his foot back down, big toe tracing along the curve of Viktor’s cock once more. Viktor exhales at the feeling, hips bucking up into Yuuri’s foot in a desperate attempt to claim more.

“Let me come on your feet,” he breathes, even as his sweatpants become tighter with each grind against his cock.

Yuuri’s foot pauses, causing a needy little whine in protest. “I’ve never, uh…” he trails off, before licking at his lips and flushing a little harder. Viktor watches the colour creep down his neck, watches the dart of his tongue with a shiver down his own spine.

“Not a footjob,” he clarifies, and Yuuri exhales. “At least, not specifically. I was just thinking that I’d fuck you like you had wanted me to do, and then…” he trails off.

Yuuri chuckles. “And then come over my feet,” he finishes.

Viktor nods. “We don’t have to, though, if you’re not comfortable,” he adds, but Yuuri shakes his head, raises his eyebrows.

“I wouldn’t have prepared if I didn’t want you to,” he points out, and then asks, “But what about you? Aren’t you tired?”

Viktor laughs. “Never with you,” he replies, leaning forward to kiss Yuuri’s thigh. His fiancé’s eyes flutter closed, briefly, before he smiles and steps back towards the bed, sitting back down on the edge and spreading his legs.

Viktor swallows again, watching Yuuri’s fingers move to tug lightly at his foreskin, smearing yet more precome across his fingers. He moves closer then, his eyes feasting on the spread of Yuuri’s thighs and the ragged hitch in his breath as he touches himself for Viktor.

So Viktor closes the distance between them as quickly as he can, taking one of Yuuri’s feet once more in order to kiss his way up to Yuuri’s knee. There, Yuuri reaches for him, his hand slipping down to press slick fingers against Viktor’s lips.

After Viktor cleans his fingers, Yuuri cups his face and bring him back up for a kiss. He goes willingly, drowning in the heaven of Yuuri’s kisses, in the divinity of his touches. He clambers up so he’s practically straddling Yuuri, their bodies pressed flush against one another as he recaptures Yuuri’s lips.

Yuuri’s fingers curl into the hem of his shirt, flit under the cloth to play against his abdomen. Viktor’s breath hitches, goosebumps rising against the soft tease of his fiancé’s fingers. Their lips part, but only so that Yuuri can tug Viktor’s shirt off him and throw it aside. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of Viktor’s sweats, then, nails lightly skimming along Viktor’s hipbones as he looks up, the request burning clear in his eyes.

“ _Yes_ ,” Viktor breathes, already lost in the quirk of Yuuri’s lips and the sparkle in his eyes, so Yuuri pulls down the sweats (and Viktor’s underwear with them), breath ghosting over his too-hard cock. Viktor shivers, one hand running through Yuuri’s hair as Yuuri shimmies his clothes off him before moving back up along his thighs, his hips, his stomach, leaving kisses in his wake. Yuuri’s tongue circles along Viktor’s hipbone, and it takes all of Viktor’s restraint not to buck his cock against Yuuri’s cheek.

Yuuri moves back on the bed to rest against the pillows, and Viktor follows, bracketing his own hips with Yuuri’s legs. For a moment he looks down at Yuuri like this, beautiful and wanting, his pupils blown wide and his expression open. Loving.

It’s not the first time Viktor marvels at how lucky he is to have found Yuuri, to have followed the call of his heart (or as everyone else at the time had insisted, his dick) halfway across the world to a sleepy seaside spa town in Japan. Yuuri is the miracle he had spent too much of his life ignoring, and now that he’s here, Viktor hopes he’ll never have to let him go again.

“Viktor?” Yuuri wonders, leaning up to cup the side of Viktor’s face. “Is something wrong?”

Viktor shakes his head, only dimly realising that Yuuri has thumbed away a tear from his cheeks. “I was just thinking about how much I love you,” he replies simply. Yuuri raises an eyebrow in amusement, though his expression is undeniably fond as he leans up to kiss Viktor.

“Show me how much you love me,” he teases when they part, with that heated, sly twinkle in his eyes that reminds Viktor of his Eros performance. Heat curls low in his stomach then, and he surges forward, pinning Yuuri against the pillows and raising his legs above his head so that he’s almost bent in half. He then pauses to fish out the lube from the nightstand, though when he presses his finger to Yuuri’s entrance, it slides in to the first knuckle with very little resistance.

Viktor swallows hard at that, images flooding his mind of Yuuri preparing for his return, fucking himself open on his own fingers in the shower. Did Yuuri wish those fingers were Viktor’s? Or that even after three fingers he would want Viktor’s cock instead? He crooks his finger then, brushing against a spot that never fails to hitch Yuuri’s breath, and leans forward to kiss Yuuri’s left heel.

“More,” begs Yuuri, so Viktor inserts another finger, his kisses trailing down Yuuri’s legs, to his thighs, and finally to his ass. Yuuri twitches a little when Viktor’s tongue joins his fingers in working him open, but the moans that follow quickly after suggest that he is more than open to the sensation of Viktor’s mouth on him like this.

So Viktor slips his fingers out, his hands now holding Yuuri in place as he licks against his entrance, opening him further with each move of his tongue. Yuuri’s skin tastes of lube and soap; he mewls against Viktor’s tongue, hips trembling with the strain of holding still under pleasure. His hands tangle into Viktor’s hair, tugging needily as Viktor’s tongue slides out to lap from his hole to the base of his balls; his feet come to rest against Viktor’s shoulderblades, toes curling as Viktor’s tongue circles his entrance again.

The next time Viktor licks his way up, he ventures past Yuuri’s balls to swirl around the base of his cock, earning himself a small gasp and an encouraging tug at his hair. Viktor pauses, then, and takes in the sight of his fiancé’s skin flushed pink with exertion, one hand pressed against his mouth to swallow the loudest of his moans.

“You don’t need to do that,” he murmurs, and earns himself a particularly loud moan when his fingers replace his tongue inside Yuuri, loosening him up further. From here Viktor can lean up to memorise again the way his fiancé looks at each thrust of Viktor’s fingers, his body trembling as his self-control burns away with the anticipation of Viktor’s cock.

Finally, Yuuri snaps and fixes Viktor with a determined glare, his hands moving to tilt Viktor’s chin to face him. “What are you waiting for?” he demands, his expression desperate with need, and Viktor almost fumbles the bottle of lube in his eagerness to comply.

“I’m sorry if I’m taking forever,” he murmurs, as he lines his lubed cock with Yuuri’s entrance, and Yuuri’s response is an impatient little wiggle of his hips.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he teases, and the laugh dances out of Viktor’s mouth before he can stop himself. Yuuri chuckles, angling up for another kiss, and Viktor takes his chance to thrust inside.

It’s not their first time — that had been months ago, just after Rostelecom — but Viktor is reminded of it anyway, as Yuuri grips his forearms and throws his head back, exposing the line of his throat for kisses and bites. And Viktor gladly does so, claiming Yuuri with each mark, each thrust. If Yuuri’s body is a temple, then Viktor must be his most ardent worshipper.

He’s thrown back into the present by Yuuri’s fingernails digging into his skin. “More,” Yuuri pleads, so Viktor’s hips pick up their pace, his hands resting lightly against Yuuri’s knees as they hook against his shoulders. Pulling back from Yuuri’s neck, Viktor’s hands now move to spread Yuuri’s legs again, bringing one foot to his lips so that he could kiss along the bottom. Yuuri laughs at that, a little breathless in his vocalisations as Viktor tries his damndest to fuck all coherent thought out of their heads.

He switches to kissing Yuuri’s other foot as he loses himself in slick, tight heat. Yuuri moans beneath him, body arching into his thrusts, toes curling against his lips. His hands now move to touch his own cock, pumping at it in time with Viktor’s thrusts. However, his rhythm quickly grows erratic, as does his breathing, and Viktor knows then that Yuuri must be close.

His own hands replace Yuuri’s now, pumping those last strokes that draw out ribbons of white against Yuuri’s stomach. As he runs his fingers through the mess and then licks them clean, Viktor tastes Yuuri for the third time that night. It doesn’t take more than a couple thrusts after that for him to feel a familiar pressure — he’s not going to last long.

Yuuri seems to sense it too. “Pull out,” he instructs, and Viktor lets him swing his feet down to press down against his cock, one heel running along his shaft.

“I thought you didn’t want to do that,” Viktor gasps.

“You’re making too much sense,” retorts Yuuri, his heel digging in a little harder, and Viktor’s vision briefly goes white.

He blinks away the stars from his eyes seconds later to find his come splattered across Yuuri’s feet, and the quizzically amused expression on Yuuri’s face as he moves his toes.

“Was that good?” he asks, almost bashfully. Viktor has to pause and blink at him for a couple moments, because there’s not enough words in his English vocabulary to tell Yuuri just how sorely understated ‘good’ is.

So he smiles instead, and captures Yuuri’s lips, kissing his answer into Yuuri’s mouth. Yuuri smiles, his hands flying up to cup Viktor’s cheeks, and Viktor’s heart thuds a little harder against his ribcage.

They clean up quickly after that, Viktor carefully stowing the Louboutins at the base of their bed before sliding beneath the covers with Yuuri. Yuuri tangles their legs, his hands moving to rest along Viktor’s shoulder blades; Viktor in return tucks his smile into Yuuri’s hair as he pulls him just a breath closer.

Unwittingly, his exhaustion from practice returns with a vengeance, and he yawns just as Yuuri presses a kiss to his shoulder. Viktor feels more than hears his fiancé’s laughter, as he asks:

“Are you sure you’ll be all right tomorrow?”

Viktor huffs in response. “I could ask the same for you.”

“You’re the one who said we had no practice,” replies Yuuri, his voice thick with post-coital bliss. It’s a good tone on him, accompanied by a good expression — Viktor wishes he had the time and stamina to keep Yuuri looking and sounding like that every single day till death do they part.

He laughs, though a shiver runs through him when Yuuri runs his foot along Viktor’s calf. Almost like he expected such a reaction, a sly smile curves across Yuuri’s lips. Viktor’s heart skips a beat, though the rest of his body feels too heavy with exhaustion to do much beyond kissing.

 “You’re going to be the death of me,” Viktor grumbles, pressing his lips to Yuuri’s forehead as he feels Yuuri’s fingertips trace hearts into his shoulder blades.

“I’m touched,” replies Yuuri drily, though his expression is nothing short of fond as he looks up at Viktor. “We should sleep.”

Viktor hums in agreement, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Yuuri’s ear. The last thing he feels is press of Yuuri’s foot against his own before he closes his eyes and sleep claims him.

* * *

**VIKTOR NIKIFOROV MAKES TRIUMPHANT RETURN WITH GOLD AT EUROPEAN CHAMPIONSHIPS**

31 JANUARY — Viktor Nikiforov, living legend and prince of the ice, has returned to reclaim his titles and records, and he is off to a strong start as a mid-season entrant by snatching the gold at Bratislava this week with a final score of 310.48. Both of his programmes for this season, first debuted at Russian Nationals last month, are reworks of exhibition skates he has done in the past.

“I decided that my theme for these programmes would be ‘life’,” says Nikiforov when asked about them. “I wanted to make them responses from who I am right now to who I used to be in the past.”

Nikiforov took most of the season off this year to become the coach of Yuuri Katsuki of Japan, who had come in sixth place at the Grand Prix Final in Sochi last season. However, under Nikiforov’s tutelage, Katsuki managed to make his own comeback this season with second place at the Grand Prix Final in Barcelona, followed swiftly by a victory at Japanese Nationals. Though Nikiforov was not present for his protégé’s victory on account of preparing for his own Nationals, his presence was felt all the same.

Especially after the events of the Cup of China last October, Nikiforov and Katsuki have enjoyed more than just a simple coach-student dynamic. When asked, however, if their relationship will affect their performances on the ice, neither Katsuki nor Nikiforov believed that it will. In fact, both cite the other as the source of their inspiration.

“I’m extremely lucky to have someone like Viktor by my side,” says Katsuki. “He constantly pushes for me to be not just the best I can be, but even better than that. He is a constant source of surprise and support, and has helped me discover things about myself that I had never known before. I know there will be complications when he has to coach _and_ compete against me, but if there’s anyone out there who can make the impossible possible, it’d be Viktor.”

After good showings at Europeans for Nikiforov and Four Continents for Katsuki, the two will meet one another on the ice at the World Championships 28 March – 3 April in Boston.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [vanella96](http://vanella96.tumblr.com/) and [history-rover](http://history-rover.tumblr.com/) for beta-reading!


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